


Everything You Say is Higher

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Community: pass_shoot_porn, Established Relationship, M/M, New York Rangers, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming home has never been more rewarding ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything You Say is Higher

**Author's Note:**

> For the pass_shoot_porn prompt: "I thought he was going to put it in." Takes place shortly after Del Zotto comes back from playing overseas during the lockout. Also, Stammer/DZ, because [really?](http://25.media.tumblr.com/4f17fd71ebff524b57ea13183245b2d1/tumblr_mhmaa9MAFL1qagrsco1_500.jpg), [really?](http://youtu.be/uI5X1gjfYw0), how can you not?
> 
> Title is lyrics from a song by The Naked and Famous.

There were only a few things in Michael Del Zotto's life he would ever willingly admit were what people would call good life choices. 

For example, choosing to spend a couple months overseas during the lockout would probably qualify as one. Taking a red eye flight from Switzerland back to North America? Not so much.

He was also quite sure a good life choice did not include showing up at his childhood friend Steven Stamkos' house at the crack of dawn after said flight landed, even though he really should've gone back to Ontario. 

Which is why he was currently taking stock of his life choices as he stood shifting his weight from foot to foot as he knocked loudly on Steven's door. 

Michael was soon greeted by Steven's scowling face, the bright Florida sun spilling in causing Steven's eyes to squint against the sudden brightness.

"DZ? What the fuck?" Steven snapped, as he leaned his head against the door.

"Nice to see you too, Steven," Michael returned.

"What did you expect me to -" Steven let out a long yawn, interrupting his sentence. "- to say," he finished.

"Oh, I dunno. Something a lot nicer than 'what the fuck?' would've sufficed." Michael grins widely, and moves so he's inside Steven's entrance. "Is that really any way to talk to your childhood friend?" 

Steven shuts the door, an exasperated look clouding his irises. "I didn't know you cared so much." He eyed the bag Michael was clutching and the suitcase he had. "Did you just get back?"

Michael dropped his bag to the floor and loosened his grip on his suitcase, before he slid an arm around Steven's waist. He splays his fingers across the small of Steven's back, and presses their bodies closer. "I think you know the answer to that." 

Steven groans and responds almost instantly, his fingers coming up to curl around Michael's neck, before his mouth is moving across the space separating them.

Michael chuckles, and pulls back slightly, dark eyes looking down into Steven's. "That's more like it."

Steven's nimble fingers move swiftly, his fingers seeking the buttons on Michael's shirt front. "There's more where that came from, DZ."

It takes a lot of strength - considering the amount of sleep Michael is currently running on - to bat Steven's hands aside. He steps away from Steven. "Later."

Steven's marble blue eyes blink, surprise and amusement colouring the depths. "Waiting, huh? Guess I can live with that." He leans against the nearby wall, watching as Michael gives a cat-like stretch. "So, what'd you suggest we do until then?" A teasing lilt colours the edges. Michael always liked that about Steven.

"Let's go to the beach. I haven't felt the sun on my skin in way too long."

Steven laughs as he rushes for the stairs. "Poor baby," he teases, before disappearing from Michael's sight. 

Michael falls asleep almost as soon as he fastens his seatbelt. To be quite honest, he does not actually remember waking up either. He adjusts his sunglasses, and stretches when he steps from Steven's car.

"We still in Tampa?" Michael asks, revelling in the feel of the hot sun kissing his cheeks. 

Steven laughs, spinning his keys on his finger, before shoving them into his pocket. "Nah. Clearwater Beach. Figured you'd wanna sleep for a bit."

"You're too kind," Michael says.

Steven smacks his arm. "I'm not the one who opted to come to Florida, instead of heading to Ontario."

"Don't be so ungrateful, Stammer."

Steven shrugs and they make their way down to the beach. The sand is soft, white, and stretches for miles. Michael thinks it would be easy to get used to this, and he can see why Steven can stay here. 

The water is all clear, blue lines, streaked with white foam. It hugs the shoreline like the way cream clings to the sides of a glass. Michael sprawls on his beach towel, staring up at the sky. Voices and laughter swirl around him. The smell of salt water, and sunscreen cling to his form. It makes him dizzy. 

Steven sits next to him. The space between them charged with something. It's like nervousness and tension bleeding together. It hums, and vibrates in his mind like the way a railroad track thrums when a train approaches. Every bit of Michael's body is drawn to it, like each and every part of his body is saying _Closer … closer still … not close enough._

"How was Switzerland, anyway?" Steven asks conversationally.

Michael shrugs. "Can't complain. Needed to find some way to keep myself in some kind of game shape."

Steven laughs, and wiggles his toes in the sand. "I hear you."

Michael glances over, and sees Steven leaning back on his hands, his face tilted up towards the sun. Steven shed his shirt as soon as they had settled on their towels, and now Michael can't help but stare. Steven's sitting position had caused his shorts to ride low on his hips, and Michael can see where the waistband of his shorts clings to his hipbones. 

It causes all the breath in his body to get stuck in his throat. He swallows heavily around it in attempt to clear his throat and mind. "Y'think this'll ever get solved?"

Steven shrugs. "Dunno. Looks promising. But we've been doing that song and dance for a while now."

Michael blinks, as he turns his head to look at Steven. "You ever think about …" he lets his voice trail off, waving a hand dismissively. "Never mind … it was a stupid thought."

"I thought about going to Europe," Steven finally blurts out. "I mean, y'know, everyone was going. But, it just didn't … _doesn't_ … feel … _right_."

Michael nodded, before turning his attention back to look out at the water. "Do you ever think about it?"

"Think about what?"

"Winning the Cup?"

Steven is silent for so long, Michael wonders if he had chosen to avoid the question, or if he was asleep. When he does slide his eyes to Steven, he finds Steven staring back at him. He wonders if Steven's eyes are as pensive as he imagines they would be, seeing as how all he can see are the tinted lenses of Steven's sunglasses.

"A lot," Steven finally says.

"What do y'think it feels like?" Michael says. "Can't imagine it's like winning all those titles we won while playing in OMHA."

Steven whacks his arm. "I imagine it's even better." He laughs, and Michael has to give him a speculative look. "Remember that one year in the minor midget tournament?" Steven finally responds, "when, oh … y'know -"

Michael laughs as the memory comes to mind, his laughter cutting off Steven's sentence. "How could I forget. I thought he was going to put it in that time, for sure."

Eventually, their laughter dies out, the memory still tugging at the edges of Michael's mind, as Steven finally gets to his feet, shaking the sand from his feet. "C'mon. Let's head back."

Michael wants to say he remembers the trip to Steven's, but truth is, he is more than a little caught up on watching Steven's every movement. From the way Steven's hand shifts the gears in his car, to the way he keeps glancing at Michael every so often. The look one that Michael should be used to by now. 

There's the click of Steven's key in the lock of his door. The sound hollow in Michael's chest cavity as he hears the lock click in place after Steven shuts it. Then, there's no more time to think, before Steven's hands are on his. Michael pulls him close, chest to thigh, his mouth covering Steven's. 

Steven still kisses just as fiercely as Michael remembers. The taste of salt water still clings to his lips. it was fucking intoxicating, and knee-melting all at the same time. 

Michael hisses his breath in sharply as he feels Steven's hand gliding down his abdomen, before his fingers sneak past his waistband, to wrap around his cock. 

"Fucking hell, Stammer," Michael groans, his head falling back to the wall behind him. 

Steven is on his tiptoes then, mouth moving over Michael's, as his hand glides over his length. "Now you're getting the idea, DZ." 

Michael allows himself to fall into the kiss. He's starved for this. Starved for the feel of Steven's mouth on his. His hands come up, twisting and tangling in Steven's hair. 

"DZ …" 

The slight hitch in Steven's voice as he says his nickname is enough to make Michael want to lose all control and fuck Steven right now. He settles for gripping Steven's hips tightly, pulling him flush against him, his hips arching into Steven's hand.

"Come on," Steven says roughly, before he leads Michael up the stairs.

The tile is cool against the heated skin of his back, the water from the shower beating down on his skin, as he feels Steven slide down his body. Steven's hands are against his hips as he tugs him forward. Michael's eyes flutter close as Steven's lips wrap around the head of his cock, before he sucks him into the wet heat of his mouth in a wet, drawing pull. It causes a ragged gasp to leave his throat, and Michael has to tighten his grasp in Steven's hair in order to keep his legs from giving out on him.

His legs shake, one hand grasped tightly in Steven's hair, the other gripping the edge of the soap holder as Steven does something absolutely maddening with his tongue to the underside of his dick. "Motherfucking fuck, Stammer."

He comes with his hands digging into Steven's hair, his knees shaking so badly he isn't sure how he stays standing. 

They eventually fall onto Steven's bed in a mass of wet, sweaty limbs. Steven is hovering over him, hands braced on either side of Michael's head, staring down at him. Steven's eyes dance with amusement. 

Steven has Michael's wrists pinned on either side of his head soon after, his knee spreading Michael's legs. Michael groans softly, and pulls his knees up, melting into the plush heat of Steven's mouth as he settles his mouth over top of his. "You were never one to waste any time," Steven notes.

"You've never complained."

"And I'm not about to," Steven returns, before his fingers are reaching down and teasing Michael's hole with his fingers. 

"Damnit," Michael grinds out, biting his bottom lip fiercely. 

Steven laughs, hands fumbling on the drawer by his bedside table. Condoms, and a bottle of lube catch Michael's eye. He feels his cock twitch as he hears the wrapper as Steven tears it open. Steven tugs on Michael's leg, and Michael gets the message as he turns onto his stomach, bringing his knees up. 

He trembles as Steven fucks him open with his tongue and fingers, his head hanging down between his shoulders. It's all straining control and Steven moving slowly into him. Michael bites his bottom lip, pushing back against Steven. Steven has his hand fisted in Michael's dark hair shortly after, yanking his head back. Michael is all heat, and tight muscle, straining against every thrust Steven makes. 

Steven's teeth graze the side of Michael's neck, scraping over the sensitive skin. It causes Michael to sob, and push back against him, voice almost pleading as he says Steven's name over and over like a prayer.

It feels like the first time every time they are together. All heated limbs, and skin. Muscles taut, and charged. Steven's hands moving over him in raw, slightly desperate strokes. "Michael …" Steven grinds out, and Michael knows he's close. Steven always says his name when he's hovering on the brink. 

"Steven, come on," Michael pleads, voice hoarse, slightly muffled by his arm.

"You want me to come?" Steven grinds out, thrusting relentlessly into Michael, his other hand working Michael's cock in time to his thrusts. 

"Fucking hell," Michael says, "yes."

Michael is all trembling limbs, and raw, little noises gasping out of him as he comes. Wet heat spills over Steven's hand, which is what finally pushes him over the edge. He sags forward, burying his face in Michael's shoulder blades, fingers digging hard - so hard, Steven's sure there will be bruises there - into Michael's hips as he shudders, tumbling and falling into his own orgasm.

They lay side by side soon after, sticky, and boneless. Steven shifts onto his side, stares at Michael wordlessly. He brushes his fingertips across Michael's knuckles, chews on his bottom lip as he gets lost in thought. "You thinking of staying for a while?"

"Maybe," Michael answers. "Do you want me to stay?"

The question is simple, but it still hangs between them, suspended in the air like the way rain clings to the clear glass of a window. 

"I'd like it if you did." 

Michael chuckles, before he rolls, so his frame is over Steven. He brings his head down, lips against Steven's hair. "Okay. I'll stay."


End file.
